Mikel reached with a steady hand for the contents scattered across the top of the fold-up table, taking a pot of ink and parchment. He wrote in a neat, rigid hand, each join suitably harsh and severe to reflect the indomitable edge to his personality.
Indications are that the intelligence of our Eyes and Ears is highly inaccurate with regard to the numbers of Aes Sedai, Gaidin and Tower Guard. The prisoner sneered when faced with our agents predictions and intimated that there were at least slightly more Gaidin than Aes Sedai. Prisoner made reference to a specific institution within the Tower, namely the Green Ajah, which claims to be dedicated to fighting Shadowspawn in the Last Battle. Subject indicated that this Ajah often bonded more than one Gaidin. An accurate prediction of numbers would be that there are one thousand Aes Sedai and perhaps two hundred more Warders amongst their ranks. Still no sign as to an estimate of the size of the Tar Valon Army (Tower Guard as they call it).
Setting the pen carefully aside, the Inquisitor nodded with satisfaction, already pleased with his success. This alone would be enough to justify the Questioning and the Lord Captain Commander might well offer him rich rewards and honours for his accomplishments. Mikel was already imagining what further treasures could be pulled out of Lain were he to press the man a little further. I might make High Inquisitor yet... the Amadician told himself with a quietly pleased smirk on his face. The man might have decades yet left in him but accidents can always be arranged if a more worthy person is found to fill his position.
"Good..." Mikel murmured at last, idly wondering whether the sudden loosening of the prisoner's tongue was due to the anguish suffered from the torture or merely because of the contempt he felt for such inaccurate intelligence. "I thank you kindly for your candor, Master Lain," he spoke courteously with a faintly mocking bow. Faintly. An officer of the Hand of the Light could not afford to waste too much time on frivolity. "Since you have been so helpful, I will allow you a few minutes of respite to think on what else you might wish to tell me." Calling over a servant, Mikel commanded the wench to fetch him sweet summer wine and a funnel with which to feed the prisoner. It was a common strategy to reinforce good behaviour through the use of a reward-based system where disobedience was severely punished. A truly broken man would soon show nothing other than total submission in order to avoid the possibility of any further retribution. "Think well on what you wish to tell me Lain... your answers will please me greatly." Slowly picking off scraps of itchweed from the man's wounds, Mikel cleared away thorny leaves until the man was left only with raw red rashes doubtlessly caused by the plant. "Right now, you are pleasing me very much indeed."
At that moment, a rustling to the right of the tent caused him to stare impatiently in the direction of the other prisoner, crouching pitifully on the floor with blood slowly staining Mikel's flawless white cloak pink. Growling with irritation, he strode forward and pulled the young man up by his hair, staring into those pained eyes. This one lacked the hardness and experience of the Gaidin. Good... perhaps he had ignored the man's existence for long enough; perhaps some use could be acquired from involving him in the Questioning. Dragging the lad bodily in the direction of Lain, Mikel tossed him into the chair he had vacated and tilted his head curiously at this captive who still held an element of youth and innocence in his boyish features. This could be very useful indeed.
"What's your name, boy?" he demanded, icy eyes glancing in the direction of the Gaidin to remind him of the price that inevitably came with defiance. "And your affiliations? Everyone serves something, so what country or organization do you owe allegiance to, I wonder?" While he waited for the young one to find his breath from the sheer shock of being hauled up by his hair, Mikel turned back to Lain who was slowly being fed wine through a rusted metallic funnel while he remained hung upside down by his feet. "Now if you are ready, I was wondering if you could tell me a few more things, Lain. I wish to know of the structural strengths and limitations of your White Tower, including how effective any siege attempts are likely to be and what strategies should be employed to insure maximum success. You might also do well by informing me of the response most commonly used by Aes Sedai in a situation where they are at war with someone and what they would be likely to do in reaction to a siege attempt." Smiling pleasantly Mikel waited for the two men to respond, his eyes outwardly calm and placid. I wonder how Lain will react when he is forced to watch the gradual breaking of a fellow captive...? This should be very interesting indeed.
xxxx
Gale gasped in surprise as he was thrown bodily into a chair by his hair. He felt every inch of pain sharply, and those inches were adding up to miles. He stared up at the Whitecloak, trying his best to glare. His small frame was covered in blood, bruises and cuts, and he thought it might just look pathetic in his state. He swallowed, catching his breath. "My name? Is that so important, when you have not been treating me as a person? I think you do not care for names but instead my, affiliations, leaders, persons of association?" Rage built inside him, and he did not think about the words as they spilled from his mouth. "The Black Tower cannot be destroyed by Whitecloaks. We have a vast army of great power, for the few men we have count as ten a piece with their skills. You cannot destroy where I come from, we will pull your flesh from you body with air. You won't be able to see what rips you apart, but you will feel it until the minute you die!" He was filled with anger that quickly subsided after he had finished speaking.
The anger quickly turned into shock at what he had said. He cursed internally. No! he thought, What did I just tell him! Why did I say that?! He stared at the ground, waiting for the Whitecloak to name him the source of all evil, a minion of the Dark One, to be killed at once. He might as well go out with a bang. "I will not tell you more, not if you break every bone in my body. Try me, Whitecloak." He tried to stare at him, acting arrogant and unafraid, while inside he was scared. I wonder what he will do to me, he thought. He knew then too, that he would not be able to help telling more than he had. He knew much more would pour from his mouth before he was truly broken. He thought it would not matter if he was to die anyway, though a spark had lit inside his mind, a spark of hope. What if I could get out?
xxxx
Mikel did not waste his time bandying words with the man once he heard of his affiliations. The Inquisitor sprung backwards, as if shying away from the hiss of a venomous viper. There was no telling how strong the man actually was but judging by the stories they were hearing of this Black Tower, it was entirely possible that he would be able to obliterate an entire legion of Children. This was most concerning... but Mikel was practical enough to see how he could acquire some advantage from the situation. The Lord Captain Commander might well be rewarding me for two great achievements by the end of the day, he thought idly, seriously considering for the first time that the position of High Inquisitor really was only a step away.
"Get the herb doctor and tell him to bring any plants with a sedative effect," he growled at the nearest Child who was looking on with an appearance of utter shock in his eyes that so aptly reflected Mikel's feelings. "Go man! Run unless you have a great desire to be responsible for the death of hundreds of our army... if you survived, be assured that the Captain Commander would not allow this to be the case for very long." That at least was enough to send him running, his pale face flushed red with the shock of what had just come to pass. Mikel's features remained as serene and unruffled as ever, shooting a thoughtful look at the young man. Why is he not channelling then...? he wondered suddenly, realising that perhaps the situation was not so desperate as it had seemed at first. The minutes passed slowly by and still the boy looked up at him, his breath coming in short, harsh rasps. Do his injuries prevent him from accessing the One Power...? That seemed the only explanation or why would the lad simply sit there staring?
"I am here, my Lord Inquisitor!" gasped the doctor, chronic fear in his deep-set brown eyes indicating that the Child must have told him that the prisoner was an Asha'man. Flaming, Light-blinded fool! He'll barely be able to administer anything to the man without trembling with the effort not to soil himself.
"Prepare a tea for the captive!" Mikel barked impatiently, gesturing for the doctor to get to work. "Something that will leave him dazed and incapacitated but still conscious and capable of speaking and feeling sensations... specifically painful ones." The man quickly got to work without needing any further convincing and Mikel simply prayed to the Light or whoever would listen that it would be enough. It was all he could do not to growl at the healer to move faster but he knew this would only serve to exacerbate the situation. He mustn't panic... a mistake here could be fatal. "Fetch three more guards to join us in the tent and fifty more to guard the exterior," he commanded the Child who was still standing there with sheer panic deeply embedded into his dark face. "I don't want to take any chances."
The doctor was already forcing a cold tea down the lad's throat, no doubt unwilling to wait long enough to heat up a cup of water. The poor fool was almost crying with the obvious exertion of going near such a vile creature and as soon as the substance was administered, he backed away with a convulsive shudder, whimpering at the thought of what he had done.
"You can leave now," Mikel said in a surprisingly gentle voice, patting the man almost companionably on the back. "You have done well and shown more courage than many of the most hardy of Children could have managed. For now, you may wait outside the tent until I have need of you again." Turning back towards the drugged and docile boy who would now be harmless for an hour or two longer, Mikel sneered contemptuously. "You have made a very foolish mistake my friend. You are going to tell me everything you can of the Black Tower... everything or I swear you will share the same fate as Lain here before your sentence is pronounced." And the only sentence for a man who drew tainted saidin would surely be death. "I give you a simple choice now... die easy or die hard."
xxxx
Gale sat listening to the man roar out orders. His head was forced back and a frightened little man was forcing a tincture down his throat. He coughed and fought to no avail. He was not strong enough to resist. He was desperate now, and could feel himself sliding into a drugged state. He seized the power, knowing that it was most dangerous to do so. He fought for control and tried to weave fire. Small flames spurted from his finger tips and he knew this was all that he could accomplish. The flames died and he slumped, the tea taking full affect. He heard his choices dying, or dying, it did not matter how to him. Unfortunately, he thought muddily, I can still feel everything. He did not answer the Whitecloak, keeping a stubborn silence.
He thought about the reactions of the Inquisitor and his other men. They were scared. If he could use that to his advantage..... well, not in this state, he thought, but if I can keep him at arms length long enough for him to maybe heal... Well, he would at least have a chance. Maybe if they thought he was mad from the taint. Yes, that would be worth a try. It did not take much for him to start laughing, for these thoughts made him laugh all the louder.
There was a price for his mirth, though. Waves of pain jolted through him, his ribs being severely broken. He gasped and fell off of his chair, spluttering as his mouth filled with blood from his lungs. He rolled onto his face hacking and bringing up more blood. He rolled into a ball, trying to control his breathing, settling it into a rasp. He did not think that the Whitecloak would let him die now, now that he knew where he had come from. He felt himself being pulled roughly over onto his back. He started to laugh.
xxxx
Lain watched interestedly as the Creature stumped across the darkened tent, scribbling down something. Does he actually think that was useful? he thought incredulously. He quickly made a mental note to review anything he would say again. How would telling them that the numbers were greater than what they though be useful If anything, would it not prevent an attack on the Tower? Idiot, he thought dismissively.
A wary look appeared on his face as the Thing smirked. "Good..."he muttered, that infuriating smile still in place. "I thank you kindly for your candor, Master Lain," he said with a teasing bob. "Since you have been so helpful, I will allow you a few minutes of respite to think on what else you might wish to tell me." If anything, Lain was put even more on his guard by this. A respite. During a questioning. He shook his head slightly. Just when a man had his balance again, no matter how precarious... The look turned to slightly satisfied as he sent for wine and a funnel. Perhaps it was poisoned...
He shivered as the Monster picked away the remaining plant on his cuts and slices, wanting to shrink away from his disconcertingly delicate touch. "Right now, you are pleasing me very much indeed." His body seized up as he thought furiously. Well, that's the end of that, he thought angrily. No more pleasing. He was spared from further trouble when the Thing turned away to the other man as he opened his mouth. Shutting it with a snap, he peered into the corner where the man huddled. Blood covered the filthy Questioner's cloak, more seeping out as the Creature threw him into a chair.
Poor man, he thought again, glad to have a distraction from the growing stabs of agony in his arm. He recoiled abruptly, a hard piece of metal jammed beneath his teeth. He tried to spit it out, glaring at the Whitecloak who held it, but was cut short as a flood of liquid flowed through it. He gagged at the taste, sweet juices and alcohol mixing with the bitter rust coating the funnel. He tried to spit it out, but the man held his nose closed, forcing him to swallow. Amid the dribbles of red wine running into his eyes, he noticed the Thing moving closer, and he redoubled his efforts.
"Now, if you are ready..." The Thing asked him questions again, deluded in that Lain would answer. He actually thought Lain would tell him all those things?!
"If you had a siege, the Aes Sedai would kill you all," he snapped bitterly, barely finishing before the other prisoner spoke. His eyes widened as he heard the angry words spill from his broken lips. An Asha'man! Another idiot, he though once more. Why tell them? He watched coldly as the Channeler was force-fed a tea, rendering him unable to touch the tainted Saidin. Serves him right, he thought with a sneer as the Questioner advanced on the helpless man.
"...Die easy or die hard." the Monster spoke. Lain's eyebrows climbed as the bloody Asha'man fell of his chair, laughing. Keep laughing, you son of a Trolloc, he thought fervently. Perhaps then he'll decide you're more worthy of attention... He stilled his body, retreating into himself as he tried to disappear.